Punkins

Grandma's Pumpkin Patch:  this year's Beaverton

Happy October, readers.

Last year, if you'll remember, Kris and Cindy had come up with a grand ol' plan for getting all the kids their seasonal pumpkins:  a pumpkin patch in scenic Beaverton, MI.

Well, this year a repeat of this venture wasn't in the cards:  conflicting schedules made it impossible for the Whites and Houghs to coordinate a pumpkin quest in Beaverton, so Kris started looking around for pumpkin patches in the greater Midland area instead.  She came across this one place that was high-rated called "Grandma's Pumpkin Patch," just outside of town, and so today we drove out and made sure the kids could buy themselves their very own, overpriced pumpkins.

We never met this elusive Grandma, but her setup wasn't too bad.

Smurf it:

What do you think this lady is yelling at my kid?

Then there's our eight-year-old. . .

They had a lot of kid activities at this place - the usual carnival-ish sort of crafts/games, bounce houses, hay rides, etc. - so here we have Kris doing some mental math, trying to determine how much crap our kids are actually going to do and how many tickets she'll have to end up buying.

Face painting (usually a fan favorite, we steered the kids far clear of this attraction - that wasn't worth two dollars for something that would wipe off in a few hours.)

Goats belong behind fences.  You heard me, Ghana.

These are always kid magnets.  I don't get it.

(If you'll look closely, you can see Kris and offspring ascending this wooden thingy to the right, there.)

This turkey had a really shitty attitude.  Relax, bro.

See that wagon in the background?  That's for a hayride through the cornfield.  It left every 15 minutes, so I hopped in line to save our spot (I was more than happy to do so - as much fun as it is to repeatedly say, "Don't put your hand near the cow's mouth" and all.)

Spot the handsome dad, guys.

The Cannonball.  Again, with this.

While I was waiting saving our spot in line for the hayride, Kris and the girls found a monster truck. . .

If my Focus had tires like this on it, I wouldn't mind driving it in the snow so much.

Finally on the hay wagon. . .

Into the wild. . .

A random broken-down truck in the middle of the woods.  Who knows why.

Oh, you can bet your asses the Houghs checked this out. . .

I'm not going to lie:  we all thoroughly enjoyed this.  I could watch this all day long. 

Geese weren't as fun to watch as the pigs, but still better than waiting in line for a hayride.

After twenty minutes or so at the races, we swung out to let the kids pick out their pumpkins, on the other side of the farm.

Knowing that these things were going to be comically over-priced (they were), we let the girls each pick out one, small pumpkin.  We always buy our large, carve-able ones from Jack's or Meijer.

It always seems to take Alayna a little longer to pick something out than Abby.  Where Abby will pick up the first thing she spots and swear by it, Alayna will methodically take her time going over multiple selections before finally settling upon one.  She gets that from me.

Abby's pumpkin.

Alayna's pumpkin.

Ponies.  We didn't do this.

The weigh station. 

Stopping on our way out of Grandma's joint in order to have the kids pose inside this giant cornucopia for a fall-ish photo op. . .

I could fill albums with pictures like this. . .

- Brian

A Forced March for Sugar

Happy All Hallows Eve, gangsters.

. . . or whatever it's called.  I don't know.

I've never been one to really put a lot of stock into the back story concerning Halloween; I don't honestly care that much about it.  It's pumpkins, cheap costumes, and sugar - big whoop.  I'm sure at one point in time, a thousand years ago, there was a great festival around the event, and lots of naked dancing and virgin-sacrificing was to be had, but around here - in the Ginger Mill subdivision - we're short on both naked dancers and chicks who haven't been laid yet who agree to be knifed for a pumpkin.

(however that worked back in the day)

What we do have, friends, is a crapload of candy.

With that said, commence Halloween Trick or Treating 2012.  ENGAGE:

I picked up the girls from Sunchild around 5pm, and quickly force-fed them dinner in order to begin the costume suit-up process.  Trick or Treating kicked off at 7pm, and we wanted to get as much candy harvesting as possible in with the girls before they dropped dead from exhaustion. . .

Unfortunately, the pumpkins that we had carved with Papa and Nana - FOUR DAYS AGO - were already beginning to rot.  They were filled with mold and falling apart, so we were unable to light them. . . despite having stored them outside on the patio.

Yet another reason why I hate mold.  F*** you, Mold.

Kris had just gotten off of work, so unfortunately she didn't have time to get into costume for Trick or Treating

The round-up begins. . .

Dorothy, Strawberry Shortcake, and Kris.

Abby checks out her plunder.

Checking up on Toto, who lost his home in order to make room for candy. . .

Dorothy's progress

About a twenty minutes into Trick or Treating, Alayna started to grow tired and began riding in the wagon. . .

. . .Abby, on the other hand, was motivated by the prospect of copious amounts of sugar and soldiered through.

Hot wheels.

Strawberry Shortcake.  Still pumped.

Dad's turn to haul two lazy-ass children. . .

(by the way - this year, I went as a badass.)

These kids were dead on their feet after 42 minutes of Trick-or-Treating.  I blame this on their weak, Farwellian blood.

. . . though the offer of eating some of their hard-won candy seemed to keep them up a little while longer.  Go figure.

(I think Kris is wasted here. . .)

SUGAR

- Brian